


Physical Therapy

by DemonzDust



Category: All American (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 20:43:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonzDust/pseuds/DemonzDust
Summary: There was only one thing that would help him right now. One person that could give him what he needed. Sadly, it wasn’t his girlfriend.





	Physical Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> My quick fic response to the All American pilot.

Jordan stared as Spencer’s bags hit the floor of his living room.

It couldn’t be real. It just _couldn’t_.

But it was.

Spencer was here to stay, not just in his school, not just on his team, but in his home, with his _family._

And his father was delighted. He’d just gotten a second son. A _better_ son.

His fingers curled into a fist as he watched his father clap Spencer on the shoulder and excitedly show him around his new home. Room after room, his father’s eyes glowed with pride and gleamed with excitement.

_Why don’t you just give him my room, while you’re at it?_

He knows why his father is excited, and it’s not just that Spencer is good at football. It’s not just that he thinks Spencer is the only one with _potential_ to win him a championship. It’s that Spencer comes from the same shitty neighborhood he did, and because of that, Spencer was like his father in a way that Jordan could never be.

His father had provided him with everything he could ever need or want growing up, and because of that his father was distant to him. They couldn’t relate to one another on that level.

But that wasn’t Jordan’s fault, and it didn’t give his father the right to just go out and pick himself up an extra son.

He forced himself to smile and be pleasant at dinner, but all the while there was a thrumming under his skin.

He wasn’t hot-headed like Asher. He didn’t react rashly or put his foot in his mouth whenever he felt threatened. Asher’s anger would flare up and then burn down.

But Jordan? He was different. His anger was never explosive. It was a slow simmering rage that pumped through his veins till he figured out just the right way to act on it.

Jordan didn’t get stupid when he was angry, he just got even.

Eventually.

But as he bounced a ball off the side of his garage late that night, hardly aware of the motions as the hard rubber slapped against his palm again and again, he began to realize that eventually wasn’t going to be fast enough this time.

He needed to blow off steam or he was going to snap.

He caught the call for the last time and squeezed it in his palm. The urge to spike it into the air and watch it break a window - preferably Spencer’s or his father’s - was overwhelming.

_No._

He reeled himself in. He couldn’t let himself lose control like that.

There was only one thing that would help him right now. One person that could give him what he needed.

And sadly, it wasn’t his girlfriend.

 

*     *     *

 

Asher’s house is even larger than Jordan’s. A sweeping structure with a long stone-paved driveway. Jordan is a bit surprised to see Mr. Adam’s Rolls-Royce pulled up to the front. He and Mrs. Adams must be taking a break between their frequent trips.

Jordan parks beside it, but doesn’t go inside. None of the lights are on, which means that Asher is probably playing video games in the pool house.

Jordan’s dad might be enamored with someone that wasn’t his son, but he had nothing on Asher’s parents. Even back in middle school it had been obvious to everyone: Asher’s parents did not give a fuck about him.

They’d bought him an Audi for his sixteenth birthday, but they’d let him pick it out himself while they were away in Paris. They hadn’t been there when an eager salesman had shown him a sleek silver convertible, nor had they been there when Asher totaled it a few days later. They’d simply gotten the car replaced and let him back on the road a week later.

But Jordan had been there when Asher had first excitedly signed the papers. He’d been at the hospital to see him scraped up and shaken after the crash. He’d watched Asher’s hands tremble the first time he got back behind the wheel, and he’d made it his business to coach his driving for weeks afterwards.

Asher never thanked him for any of it, but he didn’t have to. They were both content to leave that sort of thing unsaid.

Asher knew he could come to his best friend in his weakest and most vulnerable states, and Jordan would always have his back.

And that’s why Jordan knows he can trust Asher, and Asher alone for this.

He parks his car and heads to the backyard, past the Olympic sized pool that glowed azure and soft purple in the dark night, up to the pool house.

Much like the house itself, it was oversized for its inhabitants. Four rooms, fully furnished and equipped with a kitchen, showers, pool and football tables.

Through the large glass doors he can see his best friend on the large plush sofa, leaning forward towards the racing game he was playing. His eyes were focused and his face looked ghost-like in the glow from the large plasma screen.

He walked a bit faster and rapped his knuckles on the glass.

*     *     *

The volume on Asher’s headset was on so loud he didn't hear the tapping. It wasn’t till his phone buzzed in his pocket that he tore his eyes away from his game.

[Jordan]: Outside.

[Jordan]: Let me in?

He pulled his headset off and glanced over his shoulder.

The moment he saw his best friend, he knew what he wanted.

Jordan had that look in his eyes. That hurt and angry kind of hunger.

It set off a smoldering in Asher’s bones and excited jittering in his chest.

He drew the sliding door open and Jordan was on him in a flash. His hands tugging the zipper of his hoodie down, pushing him into the room and up against the nearest wall.

“I need you to help me.” He breathed, his breath rolling down onto Asher’s face as he pushed his hands inside his shirt, feeling up the muscles of his core. “Will you?”

He didn’t say how or for what, but Asher knew. It was the same thing he always wanted when he was like this.

“Yeah, bro.” He nodded his head, his stomach jumping in excitement. “You got it.”

Jordan wasted no time flipping Asher around and pushing him face-first into the wall.

His teeth were on Asher’s neck, biting and sucking as he unbuckled his belt and ground against the curve of his lower back. By the time his hands reached into Asher’s pants he was already hard and throbbing

Asher panted as Jordan’s palm began to pump him. He groaned as his pants were pulled down, and Jordan’s fingers, slick with saliva, began to roughly work him open.

“You want a condom, baby?” Jordan whispers into his ear.

Fuck, Asher’s bones turn to dust whenever Jordan calls him that.

“Yeah…” he breathed, trying not to shudder at the pet name.

He’d probably say yes to anything Jordan suggested as long as he called him that first.

A moment later he heard the sound of a wrapper breaking open. He had to reach down and grip himself to stop his streigning length from pushing painfully into the wall as he felt the urgent press of Jordan’s blunt head swelling against his entrance.

He bit his lip as Jordan pushed in, but it was no good. He was gasping and moaning in seconds.

“ _Fuck_ …” he gasped, as his body was knocked painfully and pleasurably against the wall with each thrust.

“Yeah, baby.” Jordan breathed, hot on his neck. “You fucking _take that_ for me.”

Cheeks burning in the dark, Asher let out a growling hum of pleasure that was heavily punctuated by the brutal grunts and thrusts of his partner.

Asher often wonders if Jordan isn't actually interested in girls at all, but he has no idea.

He knows that _he_ is. Asher is attracted to Leyla. He’s attracted to other girls in his school, he’s just also attracted to half the football team as well.

He’s physically interested in a lot of people, but he only really _likes_ one of them. Unfortunately the one he likes would never date him - at least not publicly.

Jordan only wants him like this.

In secret. When he’s hurt. When he’s agitated. When he just _really_ needs to get off.

To this day Asher doesn’t know if Jordan is even attracted to his own girlfriend or if it’s all just a show for his Dad and the rest of the school.

 _“She’s just not into the rough stuff.”_ is what Jordan had once told him. _“She can’t really take it, like you can, ya’know?”_

Asher had nodded respectfully, but he knew it was bullshit.

No one screws their best friend whenever they’re upset just because their girlfriend happens to like it vanilla. That was not a thing.

But pretending that it was a thing seemed to make it easier for Jordan, so Asher shut his mouth.

Maybe it felt less like cheating for him if he could tell himself that he was doing it to _protect_ his girlfriend. Jordan liked to be the protector. The problem solver.

But no matter which way you spun it, it was still cheating. Asher knew that, he just didn’t give a fuck.

“ _Fuck, Ash_.” Jordan muttered behind his ear, his fingernails digging into his hips.

Asher’s eyes started to roll back each time Jordan’s head knocked against the place inside him that made him writhe and moan.

Jordan’s fingers twisted tightly into his hair and his breath grew more erratic. Asher knew that was his signal to get himself finished. He wanted to come with Jordan, not before, not after, but exactly at the same time.

He tilted his hips back so Jordan hit him just where he needed it. Moved his hand furiously along his length in rhythm with Jordan’s breath.  Sweat rolled down his neck, sound muffled in his ears, and with a final brutal thrust they both burst in a rush of gasps and swearing.

Asher collapsed into the wall, panting.

Jordan sighed as he rocked Asher’s hips gently, milking the final moments of his orgasm for as long as he could. He dropped his forehead down onto Asher’s shoulder, wrapped his arms around his waist, and drew several long breaths of relief.

Each one tickled Asher’s back as it rolled down his spine.

“Thanks, man.” he muttered after a long moment. “I needed that.”

“Anytime.” Asher forced himself to say nonchalantly.

But he really means it. Anytime. Literally _any_ time Jordan wants him, he’ll be there.

He tilts his head back onto Jordan’s shoulder and stares up at the ceiling.

He would give anything for this to happen more often, but he could _never_ tell Jordan that.

He didn’t know what Jordan’s damage was exactly, or why they were never allowed to talk about, but he couldn’t risk messing things up with the one person that seems to _get_ him. That’s always been there for him.

“I got you, bro.” he offers Jordan a casual tone, to let him know they’re good.

He won’t bring this up tomorrow. Or ever.

He lets his back melt into Jordan continues to hug him from behind.

This was good enough for now.

Because it had to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I wrote this super super fast just because the pilot gave me feels. When I wrote this almost nothing was known about Asher's family life so I was basically spitballing this and who knows where the canon will go, but anyway thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
